Paramour
by hyacinthian
Summary: Who knew clubs could change your life? [WillKate]


Title: Paramour

Author: ScarlettMithruiel

Classification: R

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Do you know how much John Wells would kill me if I owned them? He'd be all, "No near-the-brink-of-death explosions and horrible cliffhangers? You're fired." Donald Trump hand gestures and all.

Summary: Who knew clubs could change one's life? Will/Kate

A/N: Hey all. Wanted to write a W/K because I don't think anyone writes it. I thought they looked über-cute together. Paramour is probably an ill title, but I thought it fit, in an odd way. Yes, lots of thanks goes to Leslie, for betaing. And for rocking my world. And I _so _apologize. I had written this at 11:00 at night and posted it under CSI. I…am a MORON.

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The crowded bar was loud and boisterous. She was not. She who was usually found in her sleek and smart power suit, her hair cautiously clipped together to prevent any loose tendrils from obstructing her view, was the antithesis of the environment she found herself in. Yet, here she was. The thumping beat of the hip-hop music intrigued her as she jostled her way to the bar. The bartender, a handsome young man of twenty, winked at her flirtatiously and her cheeks flushed. "What can I getcha?" He strung his syllables together and she felt a bit repulsed.

"Screwdriver." The bartender quickly mixed her drink and slid it to her. _Suave_, she thought. She picked up the glass, and took a sip. It was sour and it burned. She remembered nights like these. Questioning your existence never did anything but make you feel worthless, small in the larger scheme of things. A grim smile found its way onto her face, and she downed the rest of her drink. Yes, it burned. But it wasn't a negative effect. Not at all. That's why she had ordered it in the first place.

She had set the glass down on the wooden counter before heading out into the sweaty mass of people. The hip-hop music blared loudly and her eardrums dully registered their own thuds of pain. She grasped someone's hand and he welcomed the distraction. He grinned at her and the repugnant scent of the alcohol lingering on his tongue wafted to her nostrils. She grinned back to prevent herself from vomiting. He grasped her hips, albeit clumsily, and she ground against him. Dancing was so…erotic…nowadays. Practically dances of courtship. _Why aren't there any National Geographic specials on this? _Her sharp witticism did not go unnoticed by the more…casual side of her. Why was she being so caustic when everyone around her was so gentle? _A wolf in sheep's clothing. _Memories flooded into her mind, and she shook her head, in time to the music, to distract herself.

After dancing like that with a stranger, she wandered back to the bar. If she was going to trust herself to persist in this behavior for the rest of the night, she would have to loosen herself up. Her defense mechanisms were high and drawn, prepared, as ramparts of a castle were. She wanted to feel free. Like she used to. And now? She only felt cheap. She ordered another drink. And another. "I don't think you should have so many," a familiar voice rang out. She turned to see who it was. Could it be someone she worked with had found her? Her head lowered in shame. How could she be so stupid?

"Don't be so…ignominious…already." The bartender cast him a glance. He rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to prosecute you, Hester."

She seemed amazed, astounded. It seemed as if she was merely watching from outside of her earthly shell rather than bound to it. "Your literary humor at this time does not surprise me at all," she found herself saying. "Just like the use of the word 'ignominious' was rather conspicuous." She was surprised at how easily the words rolled off her tongue, the syllables bound together by a common law of phonetics, and the world seemed to shrink a little. She didn't seem so small anymore.

"What are you doing here?"

"Dance with me," she interrupted. She extended a hand and he took it. She was grateful for the distraction. Although, as she found herself dancing the same provocative dance with him as she had with the stranger, she regretted her actions. It felt so right, his hands on her hips, her arms linked around his neck. She ground against him, as was customary in this dance, and she involuntarily elicited a groan. His eyes immediately were drawn to the pale flesh of her neck, and his lips soon followed the path his eyes had wandered.

Pulled from her trance at the feel of his lips on her skin, she pulled away, abruptly. "We…we can't do this," she whispered. She didn't know why she whispered. It was so intimate to whisper. And the loud noise of the club muffled her anyway. But she knew the inner workings of things he couldn't even fathom. "The walls are always listening" was rule number one.

She hurriedly shifted back to the bar and ordered another drink. He had followed her, and tossed a few bills on the counter. "You've had enough," he stated, with an insistent tone in his voice. He linked his fingers with hers and turned to face her. "Come on." With that, he led her out of the club and into the parking lot.

It was chilly, even for a DC spring. She breathed deeply, feeling the cool air chill her as it circulated through her. She turned her head skyward and watched all the stars. She followed him to her car. She had no idea how he had discovered its location. He kissed her roughly and her mind vaguely registered the thought that she hadn't known that this passion had rested in him. She never realized the power lying hidden in those brown eyes of his. His lips began to tear a fiery trail down her neck again. She released a soft sigh, before mumbling, "We can't," just as teeth began to gently nibble. He paused his ministrations and lifted his head from the tantalizing flesh that called out to him. He wasn't sure if he was insane. At the moment, he didn't particularly care.

"Why not?"

She looked in his eyes, her own were solemn and dark. "I have secrets, Will. You _can't _know some very big pieces of me…of my past. And that's practically a death omen on a relationship." He grasped her hand, and warmed it between his own.

"I know you have secrets. You don't think I know that? You used to work for the CIA. I'm just trying to tell you that I don't give a damn." He paused. "You know Alfred de Musset?" He baited her and she smiled at the challenge.

"'With a kiss…" His lips began to commence with their searing trail and she could barely recall the rest of the quote. Truth be told, she didn't exactly care right now either. "…let us set out for an unknown world." He silenced the rest of her words with a kiss, upon her implicated prompting, and for the first time in her life, she allowed something to wholly dominate her.

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